Today is the day. Another day at my Cardiologist. Sorry if it sounds so doom and gloom. Actually, I love the guy. We figure if it wasn't for him, and the cardiac surgeon, I wouldn't be here today. We met on funny circumstances.
I was referred to a cardiologist in a different town that offered to do a stress test, "just to see", because of my family history. It came back.."possible blockage, could redo in 6-12 months". When Charles and I met with him to get the results, he could tell we were concerned, considering my sister passed her stress test 100%, and had a heart attack a few month later at age 28. So, he decided to leave it up to us, to either follow their recommendations, or go to a different Doctor and get a heart cath. You can see what we choose.
My entire family showed up for the heart cath. We are all shown into the room, and we wait. The clinic there, all the room are in a circle, so you can watch all the people, patient and doctors go around the circle, going into each room, telling people their fate for the day. Well, in walks our Doctor, well we thought he was. He stops and stares at all of us, finally gets to me, you know the naked one under the flimsy little gown...the excuses himself telling us that he had the wrong room. We all go back to our conversation, but I heard someone say my name out in the hallway. Again, in walks the same doctor, this time, just peeking his head in and walking out. I knew he was looking for me. Just a minute later, he walked in and asked which one of us was Carla..ummmm, the flimsy gown wasn't giving this answer away?? He told us he was sorry he was 1. Late, and 2. Kept coming into our room, but after looking at the test, he expected a women about 75 -80 years old, and that surely was not me.
This new cardiologist, well, putting it nicely, didn't have one ounce of sense of humor in his entire body. None!
While I am on the gurney waiting to go into sugergy, he informs me that he studied the stress test and he feels there is absolutely nothing wrong with my heart and women with "large chests" often have this type of blockage show up on this type of stress test. YEAH...we all look at eachother, and my sister and I make some reference to each other about how these babies are great for some things...the doc, not even a smile, comment,... nothing. He finally starts to walk out. I tell him I want to remain awake so I can watch. (I know, alittle sick, but I wanted to see what it looked like) He tells me no, I say yes...you get the picture...I won. My family and I then decided to start calling him "Dr Smiley", actually so much so, that I forgot his name.
In the operating room, everything is going great, and he keeps saying, "ok", "fine", "ok"..then here comes the famous, "Oh shit"....I said, "hey, remember I am awake under here." All I got out of it, is "yes Carla, you have the same disease your mom and sister died from." and he left. The nurses held me while I cried, uncontrollably, and the rest of them cleaned me up. I tried to yell at him to not tell my family, but he couldn't hear me. Maybe he wouldn't be so blunt...maybe.
Back then, they literally put this clamp on you after a heart cath, that went under your butt, then covered your hip and squeezed the hole where the cath went in and up into your heart to inject the dye. You had to lay still for 4-6 hours, and your head had to remain flat. Not my idea of fun, but it's needed. (much easier now) While they are getting me into position and "clamped", I see my sister coming down the hall, and her face is all red, with swollen eyes, and then Charles next, tears running down his face, my parents behind them. He obviously told them, and knowing Dr. Smiley as I have come to know, he wasn't gentle.
It wasn't just HOW he told them, but what he told them. He informed Charles that I needed to get a Will, and sign a Power of Attorney, NOW, because I wasn't going to be here very long, and yes, I did have the same heart disease that killed my sister and mother. When they pressed him for a time limit, all they got was maybe to the end of the year. This was Feb. 2003. He also didn't want me to leave the hospital without having an Open Heart the next day, and that wasn't a promise that was going to extent my life, but he felt I shouldn't leave. At this hospital, everything is done by "team" effort, so he would present it, and let us know later. I wasn't doing anything for the next 6 hrs. other than laying flat with a clamp on my hip....and thinking!
We didn't realize those 6 hours would seem like an eternity with all of us there being able to entertain eachother, and we figured the news would come quickly. It didn't. And, after 6 hours, we weren't able to entertain eachother any longer either. The news of me dying was starting to settle in, and it was hitting all of us hard. My father was not wanting to bury another daughter, and my sister didn't want to bury another sister. Charles, he could barely talk. Every time we looked at eachother, we would start crying, so we just sat there holding on to eachother hands, and rubbing eachothers backs, but never letting go of one another. Little did we know at that time, it was the wrong sister that we were going to bury. Anyway, it didn't come until after they took the clamp off because they couldn't agree. The surgeon did not want to do it, and he was the only one that was voting no. I decided to go home. I needed to do my Will and give Charles my Power of Attorney before I would do the Open Heart anyway.
April 1 2003, I called and my Doctor was on vacation, but his wonderful nurse took my call, I told her I couldn't breath, couldn't walk to the bathroom without stopping and holding on. April 3, 2003, I was in the hospital having my Open Heart. The surgeon told Charles and I before the operation that he still didn't feel I would need it going by the cath. There were 3 smaller blockages. Charles left it up to me, and I told me I wanted the surgery, everything inside my chest hurt, I couldn't breath, and I "knew" something was wrong. I hated putting him through this, but I felt the alternative was worse.
When they came out of surgery, they told me I was ready to die. I had 4 huge blockages, and the smallest arteries they had ever had there. My surgeon told me later that he had only seen one other person with arteries like mine in his 25 yr career as a heart surgeon. I got excited because I though I had something in common with someone and we could tell stories to eachother. Nope, she died years ago, actually one year after her open heart. Not the odds I was wanting to hear. My heart surgeon was moving away, and hugged me telling me it was a pleasure to know me and wished me the best of luck, and he would call now and then to see how I was doing. (ahhhh, made me cry) He gave me permission, 4 weeks after my surgery to go to South Dakota on a trip with Charles for a job. Ahhhh, the life, relaxing in a hotel room after open heart. What a way to recuperate. :)
My cardiologist came back from vacation and was a new man. He actually smiled at me!!! I told him some jokes...you know the one about how God knows he isn't a cardiologist??? I thought the nurse was going to need to have CPR right then and there . But, he laughed. Later, she came back in the room and told me she didn't know what I had done to him, but he didn't act that way to other patients. I told her maybe she should tell them that joke. Now, we get along great. I adore him, and give him all the credit in the world for me being here, and tell anyone that I can what a fantastic doctor he is, even if he doesn't smile for awhile. (Oh, I remember his name now) A year or so ago, I had to call him, and he called me back and told me he was so glad to hear from me, because he was afraid to call me, he was afraid I had died!
SO, 7 years later, and I am on my way again to go visit him. I usually pack a little bag. You know that little, just in case bag. If they do an EKG and something comes up from all the chest pain I have had, or because of the 130 pulse I've been having - - but has gotten better this past week, and they decide they want me to stay, I'll be ready. Well, they have never asked me to stay, so I continue to take it as my, "insurance". Today, I haven't packed one. Am I testing fate? Or am I going by my own intuition that I know I am truly okay, so I don't need this bag? I guess I will know the answer in a few hours, because ...here we go..............
Nope...can't do it...taking my bag...just can't play with this....it's a small bag, but still a bag. :) Life is good, why test it?
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